Not Dead Yet
by the mermaid of zennor
Summary: Oneshots focusing on the line of Durin during the Battle of the Five Armies. WARNING - contains spoilers from the new film. Features Fíli, Kíli, Tauriel, Thorin, Dís, Balin, Ori, Dwalin.
1. Fíli

_**WARNING - this contains stuff from BOTFA so don't read yet if you don't want to know what happens in the film.**_

_**This is just a few oneshots as a reaction to the new film. I watched it today and omg I was sobbing so much by the end - I can't believe it's over.**_

_**I don't own anything.**_

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><p>What if Fíli wasn't dead when he fell?<p>

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><p><span>1. Fíli<span>

I have failed. How could I have allowed myself to be caught by the pale orc, our greatest foe, killer of so many of the line of Durin. I struggle against his grasp but to no avail; there is no escape this time. He grabs me, lifts me into the air with one arm, dangling me over the edge of the high tower on which we stand. I can see my uncle, a tiny figure motionless on the ground far below. The orc shouts something in his foul language; I cannot tell what he has said. I grit my teeth, willing my face to remain calm, to betray no fear, for I am a prince of the line of Durin, and heir to the throne of Erebor.

Pain. He has stabbed me, the huge blade attached to his arm is now buried in my back. I gasp for breath, but the air will not enter my lungs. I can feel blood pouring down my back, and I know that this is a bad wound. Surely though, it cannot end like this, I am too young to die.

He drops me. The wind whistles in my ears as I fall. The seconds crawl past. It takes a long time to reach the ground.

I hit the ground hard, sprawled on my back. I must have broken something, but I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything, not even the huge jagged hole bored into my back. I try to move, to get to my feet, to crawl, even just to drag myself away. Nothing. My limbs will not obey me. I am helpless as a beetle on its back. I call out hoping in vain that help will come. All I hear is a horrible bubbling gurgle, my lungs contorting in pain where the blade has mangled my windpipe. Blood spills up my throat, filling my mouth with the iron tang of death.

Then I see him, stood just out of sight of the orcs behind a pillar. His face is twisted in raw terror, tears are dripping down his cheeks, splashing onto the ground with a surprising thud. Kíli, my foolish, reckless, beloved baby brother. I try to warn him with my eyes, to tell him to run, to get away, to live. He does not see – he darts out from his sanctuary, sword drawn, eyes blazing. I can see him no more – has Kíli gone, or has my vision failed me? Blackness overcomes me; I feel myself drifting, but I can still hear him, a battle roar of pure fury in which I can discern only one word. Fíli. It fades, growing ever more distant. He is gone. I hope I will not see him again soon. Forgive me mother, I can protect him no longer. This is the end for me.

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><p><strong><em>I had to write something for Fíli, I thought the film skipped over his death too quickly, but it was the one that really got to me, I was hoping PJ might have let him live. :(<em>**


	2. Kíli

_**Wow, I wasn't expecting reviews in such a short time - thank you! :) Fíli's my fave dwarf but he just doesn't get the screen time, I definitely agree with all your comments! **_

_**Guest: Nope Thorin does :) I realised on re-reading that I made it sound like Thorin's dead - he's not, he's just frozen with shock.**_

_**Still don't own anything.**_

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><p><span>2. Kíli<span>

My eyes must be deceiving me. Surely he will get up now, smile and reassure me, brushing off his injuries. He does not. I see his eyes flickering, hear his breath gurgling in his throat as he tries to speak. Blood trickles down his chin, staining his golden hair a dull red. I stare at him; he catches my gaze, his eyes pleading with me, then just staring, glassy, lifeless. "Fíli," I whisper his name, surely this will call him back to me. It does not.

He is dead. This is not how it was supposed to be. Who will chase away the monsters now? Ever since I was a child, he was the one to banish the night terrors lurking under my bed, and later the orcs we encountered on our rare outings from the Blue Mountains. When I overheard Uncle and Dwalin talking about the pale orc, I had nightmares for weeks. When Fíli found out, he promised me that he would kill him, that the orc would never again hurt any of our family.

The orc broke that promise. At this thought, I snarl in fury, swiping the tears from my eyes. Clutching my sword, I start up the cracked stone steps towards Azog, shouting Fíli's name, followed by a string of curses in Khuzdul. I can do no more for my brother; I can only hope that his body will lie untouched until I return. Body...Fíli...I can hardly process it, my mind swirls. One thing I am sure of - I will be avenged. The murdering scum will not see another morning.

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><p>Reckless to the last, I chase after Bolg. I will kill him, I will avenge my brother on the closest thing the scum has to family. Yet I am weary with grief and the long hours of the battle.<p>

I trip, Bolg catching hold of my clothing, holding me fast in a dreadful parody of a loving embrace. He raises the blade in his other hand, holding the handle, sharpened to form a crude stake, directly above my heart. Time stands still. I wait, frozen. He's going to appear out of nowhere, he will save me, he always does. Yet no one comes. Then it hits me. Fíli is dead. Tauriel will not reach me in time. No one can help me. I am going to die.

I don't struggle; there is no point any more. Without him my life is empty, loving Tauriel will not bring me joy ever again. With a horrible grin, the orc drives the stake into my chest. It's blunt. It hurts. I feel my flesh shredding; the orc twists the stake as he removes it, dropping me to the floor like a broken doll. I stare at Tauriel, my lips shaking as I try to form words. "I love you," I breathe sadly, so quietly that I cannot tell if she has heard me.

She sends me a sad smile, eyes full of tears. I try to smile back though I barely have the energy. She has a whole life ahead of her, I can tell that the other elf, Legolas, cares for her. He could make her happy. I was always going to die, in the end.

My eyes flutter closed, yet the world is brighter than before. I can see Fíli, standing just out of my reach, golden hair glowing; there are no signs of his injuries. He nods to me, smiling as he turns, walking away into the white light that surrounds us both. I draw breath, one last time. "Brother, wait for me."

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><p><em><strong>I'm super inspired today, I feel like writing loads! :P Next chapter will be Tauriel, it may or may not appear today. I might extend this past Thorin later and do some of the rest of the company.<strong>_


	3. Tauriel

**_Huge thank yous to everyone who read/reviewed/faved/followed, I seriously wasn't expecting that much of a response!_**

**_I don't own anything._**

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><p><span>3. Tauriel<span>

I drag myself towards him, the rough stone breaking my nails and scraping the skin from my fingers. I leave a trail of blood and tears smeared across the stone. I cannot feel it, for I am already consumed by pain, every part of me hurts. I collapse next to him, taking hold of his hand that is still outstretched, reaching for me. The cold of it seems to burn me, cold as the stone of that accursed mountain. I flinch away. He lies still, no smile graces his face, as it did whenever we met. This is not the Kíli I knew. I loved him.

Did I ever answer him? I cannot remember. I thought we would have years to spend together, after all the fighting was done. Yet he is gone, and he will never hear me say it. He is far away from me.

Footsteps echo behind me. I turn to see Thranduil. He is no longer my king. He banished me because I did what was right. He stares at me hunched over Kíli's body, his mouth slightly open. He is, for once, lost for words.

"If this is love," I whisper, "why does it hurt so much?" I do not know why I speak to him, for he dismissed my feelings a few hours past.

"Because it was real," he replies sadly.

"Take it," I breathe. He freezes. I see a single tear slide slowly down his cheek. I do not care. "Take it away from me."

He nods. Slowly, he draws the silver knife from his belt. I smile. For once, he will do a kindness for another.

I watch the blade fall. It is graceful, beautiful. It arcs down towards my throat. The seconds crawl past.

We will walk in starlight together.

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><p><strong><em>This one's pretty short, I didn't have much about her to flesh it out. Next up, Thorin, then I'm definitely going to write Dis' thoughts after that.<em>**


	4. Thorin

_**I've reworked this one a little bit so we now have Thorin forgetting the events of the battle, that wasn't clear before.**_

_**Still don't own anything.**_

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><p><span>4. Thorin<span>

Finally. Azog is dead. Our long rivalry is at an end. I killed him. I look down on the battle, standing shakily at the edge of the frozen waterfall which crowns Ravenhill. I can see tiny figures glinting far below, a sea of churning dots that makes my head spin unpleasantly. Suddenly, my legs give way and I fall, sprawling across the ice, which creaks beneath me. I gasp as pain shoots through me, spreading like fire from the wound in my chest. My head is spinning, my thoughts are a muddle. Did anyone else follow me up here? I cannot remember. I pray they did not.

I close my eyes, but instead of darkess, I am back in Erebor. Fíli and Kíli stand a few paces away from me. Fíli wears a crown, the same one I threw away not four hours ago. Turning, I can see the rest of the company, gathered around the throne at the far end of the hall.

They are all safe. I smile in relief.

Now, I have only one thing left to do.

As this thought forms in my mind, I hear the faint sound of feet running lightly across the ice. Hobbit feet, if I am not mistaken.

I am not. The hobbit himself appears out of thin air. Unexpectedly, I can see him clearly, kneeling next to me, his face full of concern. He sees the blood spreading across my front and pales, but he grits his teeth and examines my wounds. He recoils in shock, bowing his head. I know then that my fate is sealed, but I cannot pass on just yet. I need to speak to him, before the end.

"I tried to kill you," I whisper in horror. He shakes his head.

"No Thorin, you were not yourself," he tries to reassure me. It does not work, I am still filled with disgust at myself, at what I have become.

"I am truly sorry," I tell him, though I know words cannot atone for my actions. He just smiles sadly, gently pressing my hand between his smaller ones.

"I forgive you," he murmurs. I sigh in relief. I do not know why he forgives me so readily, but I am glad he does. Now I can be at peace. I squeeze his hand feebly; the small movement exhausts me.

"Fíli will make a good king," I murmur softly. "Better than me anyway." Bilbo bites his lip slightly, his head twitches to look behind him. I smile. He must have met them on his way here.

"Yes, he will," he agrees quietly.

"And Kíli," I continue, "with a little more training he will be an excellent Captain of the Guard." Bilbo nods, I can see his eyes filling with tears.

"I'll…I'll tell them you said so," he stutters, his voice cracking. Tears begin to fall, splashing onto my face. I cannot feel them, yet they warm my fading heart.

"You are a good friend, Master Baggins; I am glad to have met you. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." He shakes his head vigourously, as if he can change my fate by willing it. "But, sad or merry, I must leave it now." I continue, my breath now coming in short gasps; it takes all my remaining strength to draw the air into my lungs.

"It's been an honour," he chokes. I pull my lips into a smile. I have not smiled enough in my life.

"Farewell." I draw breath, one last time.


	5. Dís

**_Again, thank you for the support, I'm chuffed so many people read this. :)_**

**_hollyhobbit: I let him forget in his delirium so that at the end he can be thinking of them together :3 _****_That's why Bilbo lied when he realised that Thorin had forgotten._**

**_I don't own anything._**

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><p><span>5. Dís<span>

The dull thuds as they seal three more tombs are three fresh blows to my heart. The crowd behind me now files out of the cavern in which we stand. I ignore them, their condolences and platitudes will bring me no comfort this time. Seven times I have done this now, each more painful than the last. Seven funerals. Grandfather. Father. Thorin. Frerin. Fári. Fíli. Kíli. All dead.

"A curse has come upon me," I whisper to the empty chamber. It is true. Instead of falling to the dragon sickness, it seems Mahal has doomed me to walk the world alone, chipped away slowly by the loss of those I love. The curse is complete now; there is no one left. Except me.

I crumple to the floor, wishing I could fall straight through it and join them. My darling boys, always so full of life, eager to prove themselves to their uncle. I should have stopped them from going, I could have fought against my brother. Perhaps, in the end, it was my fault.

My eldest, Fíli, the spitting image of his father save for my blue eyes. His birth brought new hope in some of our darkest days; a golden child, quite literally. Though he was of the line of Durin, his true nature was akin to that of his father; he always was kinder, more caring than I remember any of my family ever being, He had little love for gold and treasure, preferring instead the company of his family, and especially his little brother.

And Kíli, always ready with a smile and a joke; his mischievous schemes giving me no end of grey hairs. He was born too early, I was sure he would not survive. It was Fíli's voice that brought him back then, I am sure of it, though I cannot explain how. All his life, Fíli protected him, and in return Kíli idolised his big brother. My babies should not be sealed away like this, separated forever. I know Kíli is still scared of the dark, and Fíli is the only one that can comfort him.

I want no more to do with this accursed mountain.

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><p><strong><em>This is an end of sorts, but I'm going to write 3 more for Balin, Ori and Dwalin to finish up, not sure when I'll do that though.<em>**

**_If anyone's interested, in the New Year I may be starting a fic centred on Dís before she married and featuring the rest of the company in their younger days - some of them just don't get enough attention._**


	6. Balin

_**I don't own anything.**_

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><p><span>6. Balin<span>

I gaze intently into the dark, star-spangled depths of Kheled-zaram, as though the waters themselves can provide me with the counsel I now seek. Ever since we came here we have been plagued by misfortune - shortages, illness, one death after another. Perhaps it was a mistake to return to Moria.

Only a few years ago, I counselled Thorin not to retake Erebor, to remain in safety in the Blue Mountains, and yet now I have done exactly the same. My brother did not accompany me however; it has been several years now since I have spoken to him. We were never particularly close, but since the quest and the loss of our friends, we have grown apart.

Suddenly, from behind me, I hear the clinking of metal and the sound of heavy feet, accompanied by a harsh cackle. Orcs. I turn back to the gates, I cannot linger here. They must be warned.

As I hurry away, I hear a shout and the faint snap of a bowstring. A sudden pain erupts in my back, and I stagger, collapsing to my knees as a burning sensation begins to spread through my body; it seems the arrow was poisoned. Orcs, dozens upon dozens, march past me towards the gates. They take no notice of me; it seems that to them, I am already dead.

I hope my friends can hold out against the orcs; if they can barricade the gate it will buy them some time. Yet I am no fool, I know it is an unlikely hope that any of them will escape, in the end.

A battle cry goes up, it seems the guards at the gates have spotted the orcs. The clashing of metal upon metal that soon follows reassures me that my friends are fighting back.

As I listen to the battle now raging around me, I can feel myself growing weaker, the poison claiming me swiftly. I do not dwell on this however, there is no use in bemoaning the facts. I am old anyway, this is just simply my time.

Dimly, I become aware of two figures leaning over me; dwarves, face obscured by their helmets. "Leave me," I whisper. I know they cannot save me, and it would be foolish indeed to waste their last energies on one dead dwarf. Reluctantly, they nod, turning away slowly. I close my eyes; I feel strangely relaxed, calm despite the chaos raging around me.

I wonder whether anyone will ever hear our story. I hope it can serve as a warning.

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><p><strong><em>Let me know how this one was, it was definitely much trickier to write..<em>**


	7. Ori

**_I don't own anything._**

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><p><span>7. Ori<span>

We few who remain have barricaded ourselves in the Chamber of Mazarbul, but all of us know that this is only a brief respite. The hordes of orcs hammer furiously on the doors, causing them to rattle on their hinges. I kneel down, writing frantically in the book in a last effort to record all that has happened this day.

Over the shrieking of the rabble outside, a deep rumbling echo reverberates through the walls, chilling me to the bone. Drums. Drums in the deep. It is a death knell, a sound of certain doom, pounding through my skull like some ghastly hammer of the underworld.

As if in answer, the doors burst open, dozens of orcs spilling into the chamber, snarling with bloodlust, swords already raised for the kill.

In panic, I scrawl down a final line, my writing sloppy. _We cannot get out. They are coming._ A shadow looms over me, a huge orc, already splattered with blood, curved sword gleaming in the torchlight, raised above his head for a final blow. As the blade falls, I slam the book shut, holding it up as a crude shield. The orc growls as the sword slashes deep through the pages, shredding my painstakingly recorded notes.

I scramble backwards across the floor as the orc paces towards me, backing up against the wall of Balin's tomb in the centre of the chamber. Weaponless, but keeping a tight clutch on the book, I stare defiantly up at the orc now towering over me. I may be a only a simple scribe, but I am not going to die like a coward. My fingers move frantically through the layer of debris covering the floor, searching for a weapon, anything I can use to defend myself. Nothing.

As the orc leers down at me, I spring upwards, quill pen clutched in my fist, burying it in the gap between helm and shoulder. The orc howls in pain, swinging its sword wildly, and a searing pain slices across my stomach. I collapse to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, as I try in vain to staunch the bloodflow. My hands are slick with gore, and I can feel things under my fingers that should definitely be on the inside. Everything I have learnt about injuries in my extensive reading tells me this is bad.

No one will know what happened here; for there will be no one left to take word back to Erebor. My brothers will surely realise I am dead, but there will be no funeral, no comfort for them. I wish I had not hurt them like this. We have always been close, in our own unusual ways.

As my breathing grows more ragged and my vision blurs, I lie back against Balin's tomb, hugging the book against me. It comforts me to have it here now.

I cannot say why, but I feel certain that someday, someone will read my last words.


	8. Dwalin

**_I've taken a different slant on this one, I wanted to have a less depressing ending :3 Dwalin's tricky to write though, so I hope it reads okay._**

**_I don't own anything._**

**_Edit - since you've asked how Dwalin died, I was writing this thinking old age but since we don't know for sure I didn't include it :)_**

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><p><span>8. Dwalin<span>

"Ah, there you are brother. We were beginning to think you'd never join us." Balin is standing in front of me, wizened face alight with happiness. Why is he so pleased to see me, I wonder. The last time we met I told him he was a fool for trying to retake Khazad-Dûm, that he was being blinded by treasure and the idea of ruling the greatest of the dwarf kingdoms.

"We?" I question him, frowning. Balin nods as he gestures behind him, to a small crowd of dwarves watching us; I recognise them all. "How?" I manage to say; I am momentarily lost for words. "Where did they come from?"

"Well done Dwalin, I don't think I've ever heard you ask so many questions," a low voice chuckles. Thorin walks towards me, arms held out in welcome.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile for this long," I snort with laughter. I'd never tell him, but I think that maybe dying was good for him. He may not be King under the Mountain, but he is surrounded by his family. Perhaps that was really what he hoped to gain by returning to Erebor. As I am thinking this, I feel someone clap me on the shoulder, and I look up to see Frerin grinning at me.

"Dwalin!" Kíli shouts, interrupting my thoughts. As he bounds towards me, I have to pause for a moment to check it really is him; somehow he's managed to grow one of the longest and most elaborately braided beards I've ever seen. He notices me staring.

"Good, isn't it," he smirks. Behind him, Fári and Dís groan in exasperation; it seems they've heard this dozens of times before.

"You look ridiculous," I mutter.

"Thanks!" he beams as though I have just paid him the greatest compliment. "You know, if you think really hard, you could probably get your hair to grow back," he quips, as he dodges a cuff around the head.

"Kíli, back off a bit, he's only just got here," Fíli chides, ushering him away. Kíli turns to talk to his father instead, and I smile at this simple interaction. Fári never met his youngest son in life; I am glad for them that they have been given a second chance.

Fíli is watching me, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry." I know it is a poor apology for a death that has haunted me for a hundred and seventy years. He shakes his head.

"It was my choice," he states calmly. "They told me they had Kíli, so I gave myself up." I sigh. Of course. I knew Fíli could never have been caught so easily, he was too skilled a warrior, not to mention the six or seven hidden knives he always carried. But still, I should have been there, for both of them.

"It should've been me...I promised to protect you...both of you..." My voice trails off as Fíli hugs me as he used to when he was a tiny dwarfling.

"I heard what you said, when you found my body," he mutters into my jacket. Mahal, how embarrassing.

I remember that day well. When the battle was over, I found him, tossed aside in the snow as though he was of no consequence; it seemed that no-one but me mourned his loss. I never dreamed that anyone would have heard my words; ripped from my mouth by the wind and thrown carelessly away, like the young prince they were for.

"When you said I'd have been a better king than them," he asks hesitantly, "did you mean it?" I nod in response, not trusting myself to speak. He is silent for a long time, I think he might be crying. I pat his hair awkwardly; I never knew what to do when they cried as dwarflings. When he pulls away from me however, he is smiling.

"I don't think I've ever seen you shed a tear before," he gives a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't get used to it," I growl; he punches my arm before he walks away. Turning, I find that Balin is at my side once again. "You all right?" he asks tentatively; this is the most conversation we have had since the days of the quest. In response, I nod; I feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

I think this will be the new start we all need.

"What happens to us now?" I ask him, smiling properly for the first time in years.

"We move on."

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><p><strong><em>So, that's the actual end! I'll just take this opportunity to plug my other fics, if you want to read them..<em>**

**_It's been really motivational to see that people want to read what I write, so thanks :3 _**


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